The Hand Of Fate
by TheDeadlyViper
Summary: Sequel to A Sick Day For Severus Snape. Draco is under Snape's protection following the death of Dumbledore but what if Snape can't protect him from everything? And can Snape trust Draco with the truth?


((Ok, you asked for it! I'm not sure how long this story is going to be or how it will turn out, but since so many of you were begging for a sequel to Sick Day For Severus Snape…here it is! I hope you all enjoy it!

The Deadly Viper - ))

Severus Snape sat inside the shabby and mostly bare room at Spinner's End and watched Draco sleep. The boy often had nightmares these days, since the events surrounding the death of Albus Dumbledore. Although, so far as Snape knew, he could have been having them for much longer. Merlin only knew what horrors Draco had been made to do at the hands of the Dark Lord. 

As it was, Draco was sleeping quite peacefully. Severus had been slipping sleep potions into his food and drink at mealtimes. He had found out quite quickly that without the aid of potions, Draco rarely slept. Usually, he would lie awake for most of the night, sometimes reading a book, until dawn came creeping over the horizon. Only then would he finally relax and let sleep take him. Severus had watched him often enough to see his rituals. If he didn't lie awake reading a book, he paced. Compulsively. He'd walk from his bed and to the window. He'd check the window to be sure it was locked, tugging the pane to be sure it had no give. Sometimes he would stop and merely gaze out into the darkness of night for an hour or so. Then back to bed. While he lay in his bed, he checked his arm compulsively. He would roll up his sleeve and gaze at the pale inside of his arm with a mixture of awe and horror. He'd set two fingers of his opposite hand upon it, as if checking himself for a pulse. But Severus knew. He was checking for burning or tingling on the spot where his dark mark was. Checking to be sure that the Dark Lord was not calling him. Despite Severus' assurances that yes, the window was still locked, no, there is no one outside and no, your mark isn't burning because mine isn't, Draco still did these things. He still carried out these rituals. And Severus understood that too. Draco didn't do these things because he wanted to. He did them because he was compelled to. He couldn't have stopped himself if he had tried. And so Severus was left with this. Sleeping potions and staying awake until dawn. Severus also understood that particular ritual. Draco's need to wait until morning to sleep. The boogey man could not hurt you in broad daylight. He only attacked by night, as all small children know. Unfortunately, Draco's boogey man came in many forms.

Surprisingly, Voldemort hadn't been entirely upset at the outcome of Draco's mission. After all, regardless of who had carried out the deed, it was done. And Albus Dumbledore was dead. Still, Severus had known there would be some retribution. For whom, he hadn't been sure. Draco had earned himself punishment by Cruciatus. He had been punished, because he hadn't carried out his mission. Severus didn't know how the Dark Lord had found out, but he knew Draco had lost his courage. For that, he was punished. Severus was glad he hadn't been there to witness it. He had been, as he told the Dark Lord, attending to the matter of the headmaster's death. Voldemort had put the boy in his hands. That was another thing to be thankful for. If he had gone home to his mother, the Aurors would found him in no time at all. Instead, the Dark Lord concluded that he would best be left in care of Severus Snape for his own protection. The blonde boy had been curled up in a fetal position when Severus had arrived and it took every ounce of will power his body possessed to keep from running to the boy and shaking him. At first, he'd thought Draco was dead.

"He's been punished." The Dark Lord had said coldly in his rasping voice. He was wrapped up in a long black cloak; the hood pulled up over his head. Severus had met his gaze, locking eyes with the red coals that burned beneath the hood of the cloak.

"Punished?" Severus had asked, forcing his voice to sound natural. Almost casual.

"Punished with Cruciatus." The Dark Lord had replied. "I gave him orders, which he deliberately ignored. Putting all of us at risk. You, most especially, Severus."

Severus let out the tiniest sigh of relief. He wasn't dead, then.

"No, Severus. He is not dead." The Dark Lord said this slowly, and he imagined, though he couldn't see beneath the hood, that he was smiling when he said this. Though anyone could tell you, to see the Dark Lord smile was a horrific sight indeed. It gave him a start. Voldemort had read his thoughts. Normally, he was careful to lock his thoughts up tightly. Severus was careful now, to make his mind a blank page. A block.

"He's not dead. But I can't speak for his mental state." He went on. "From this point on, Severus, the boy will be in your care. It would be foolish to send him home to his mother. He'll be found, of course."

Severus was watching Draco now. Yes, he was breathing. He could sense the slightest rise and fall of his breath. He was trembling slightly as he breathed.

"Keep the boy with you. Under your protection." The Dark Lord told him. "He has been a fool, but I still have great plans for him. In the future."

Severus didn't have to look over to know Voldemort had left. The air crackled. Suddenly, the temperature seemed to rise as the chill left the air. He was gone. Severus drew near to Draco and crouched down by his side. The boy flinched when he touched his shoulder. Blood was crusted beneath his nose and on his lips. A thin trail of crimson ran from the corner of his mouth. He had bitten his tongue. Badly, Severus had guessed.

"Is anything broken?" Severus asked.

Draco shivered and managed to shake his head slightly.

"Open your mouth." Severus said, but Draco didn't move.

"Sit up." He commanded in firmer tones. "And open your mouth."

Draco sat entirely still for a moment or two, before he finally rose. Slowly and wincing with pain. He opened his mouth. Yes. There were bite marks. Five delicate marks where his teeth had clamped down on his tongue when the curse had struck him. Aside from the pain he was no doubt in, everything seemed intact. No broken bones. No shattered teeth.

"How many times?" Severus asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Twice." Draco spoke so softly that he was almost inaudible. Twice. He had gotten off fairly easily. Severus wanted to point out that it could have been much worse. He could have broken his bones. He could have ground his teeth to dust. He could have gone insane with pain. But he knew saying these things would not benefit the boy. Instead, he offered his hand.

"Come with me. I can give you something for the pain."

When they returned to Spinner's End, Severus fixed Draco a coffee with a liberal shot of brandy in it. Draco sat on the overstuffed couch in the sitting room with a blanket draped across his shoulders. He swallowed the coffee gratefully and it was gone in a few minutes.

"Now what?" Draco asked, his voice coming out in a grating rasp. Severus was sitting in an armchair opposite him. Watching him carefully.

"Now nothing. Now…we wait." Severus replied.

"Am I going home?" Draco asked as he shrugged the blanket off his shoulders. He seemed to be recovering.

"No." Severus glanced away at the empty fireplace. Wormtail was out and he didn't feel like stocking it himself. How quickly his home had become a refuge for renegade death eaters. First Peter, now Draco.

"But…my mother- " Draco began and Severus shook his head and turned to him.

"You'll see your mother soon enough. You can't go home. The Aurors will find you. You know that."

"Won't they find my mother?" Draco asked, looking anxious now.

"They might. They might interrogate her. But she has not committed any crimes. They have nothing to charge her with." Severus said, but he didn't point out in these days, even being associated with death eaters was reason enough to be thrown into Azkaban. Let alone, being married to one and having one for a son.

"Besides, Bellatrix will be guarding your mother, as will I. No one is going to get near her. I guarantee you."

"She'll be worried." Draco replied uneasily.

"I've already written a letter, telling her that you'll be under my protection and care. I will send it out tonight." Severus replied. "As soon as it's safe enough, I'll send for her."

Draco nodded and pulled the blanket over his shoulders once more.

"So, we wait?" He asked.

Severus nodded. "We wait. Until the Dark Lord sends for us. For now, I suggest that you rest. There's a room made up for you, upstairs. Tomorrow morning, I will retrieve your belongings. But there isn't much room, so I would suggest you pare your list down to only the things you truly need. Clothing and the like."

Draco nodded to this as well and stood. For a moment, it seemed as though he wanted to say something. Finally, he turned and went up the stairway.

Severus gave a long sigh and glanced warily toward the fireplace. He had his own troubles to worry about. He was reporting back to the Order tonight. It was going to be one hell of a meeting. Most of the Order understood the plan involving Albus Dumbledore. They knew about the vow he'd made to Narcissa Malfoy. The vow he'd been forced to make, to prove himself to Bellatrix and all of the others. But it wouldn't stop the Order from being suspicious. They would ask a lot of questions. Interrogate him. It was quite a trial, proving himself first to one side and then to the other. Constantly justifying his motivations and actions. Finally he stood and drew on his traveling cloak, reminding himself that like it or not, it was up to him to carry out Albus Dumbledore's last wishes. Dumbledore had trusted him, to stay the course. To continue the fight. Long after he was gone. And he owed it to the man. With that last thought in mind, he left to meet the Order.


End file.
